


Diversion

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fanfiction, Genre: PWP, M/M, Rating: NC17, character: hotrod, character: springer, smut: sticky, verse: g1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> <a href="http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/71609.html?thread=870329#t870329">Prompt</a> for Springer/Hot Rod. space travel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diversion

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Smut, as requested.

**Title:** Diversion  
 **‘Verse:** G1  
 **Series:** None  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing:** Springer/Hotrod  
 **Summary:** [Prompt](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/71609.html?thread=870329#t870329) for Springer/Hot Rod. space travel.  
 **Notes:** Smut, as requested.

 

**Diversion**

 

“Are we there yet?”

Springer ground his teeth together. “Do you see a space station out there?” He pointed at the viewport, exasperated. What had he done to Magnus to deserve being stuck in a shuttle with a bored Hotrod?

“No. I’m just bored.”

“No kidding?” Springer easily could have made this trip alone. He could have read, relaxed.

“How long ‘til we’re there? I think I might go stir crazy if it’s not in the next five minutes. Why is space travel so boring? Couldn’t we at least get attacked or something so we’d have something to d- whoa!”

Springer hauled Hotrod out of his seat with one hand gripping the front of his chest plating. Instead of fear, however, Hotrod’s expression went from startled to _purring_.

“Well, that would cure the boredom.”

“Me kicking your aft in?” Springer said. Although a little voice in the back of his mind said Hotrod didn’t have such a bad idea. It also supplied a few images of things that would, at the very least, give Hotrod something else to do with his mouth than talk incessantly.

Hotrod grabbed Springer’s shoulders, and crawled into his lap. “Come on. Not like we’ve never done it before.”

And that brought up a few _dozen_ more mental images.

Springer growled. “No talking.”

“Not even to beg?” Hotrod pressed their chests together, rocking up on his knees, rubbing against Springer. “Please! Oh, Springer! Harder! _Harder_! More! Oh! Oh! _Yes_!”

Springer really wished that wasn’t as hot as it was. “Glitch.” He grabbed Hotrod’s helm and mashed their mouths together. Hotrod’s laugh quickly became a moan, and he softened against Springer.

They _had_ done this before, and hands quickly went to known hotspots. Springer kept at it until they were both panting, then grabbed Hotrod’s hips and turned him around on his lap. Hotrod purred, tipping his helm to look back at Springer with a smile. He spread his legs, letting them hang to the outsides of Springer’s as he leaned back.

Springer claimed one more kiss, and plunged his fingers deep when Hotrod exposed his valve. “Primus!”

Springer let his spike extend. “Hands on the console.” Hotrod obeyed, arching his back and rolling his hips. Cursing softly, Springer gripped Hotrod’s thighs, and lifted. He tried to go slow, but Hotrod had other ideas, and Springer gasped as he was seated fully in tight heat.

“Glitch. Good way to hurt yourself,” Springer said, holding tighter to Hotrod’s hips to keep him still for a moment.

“I’m fine. Come on. Frag me already.” Hotrod punctuated the demand by rolling the calipers of his valve down and back up in a rippling wave.

Springer’s vents caught, and he growled. He cursed again, then grinned and relaxed his grip. “Have at.”

“What?” Hotrod looked back over his shoulder, confused.

“Ride me. You’re in charge. Go for it. You set the pace.”

Hotrod looked dubious for a moment, but then turned, braced himself better against the console, and began to rock his hips.

It felt pretty slagging good, and Springer relaxed back in his chair. View was nice too. He let his hands trail lazily over Hotrod’s back, playing with the spoiler, fingers delving into transformation seams. He did his best to ignore the charge that was building, and focused on winding Hotrod up.

“Pits! Springer!” Hotrod could rock, wind his hips, and grind down, but not very fast. He just didn’t have the leverage.

“Hm?” Springer pinched the edge of the spoiler and watched Hotrod’s whole body jump in his lap. Did great things for his spike too, as Hotrod’s valve pulled tight in a squeeze.

“You’re teasing me!”

“Are you bored?”

Hotrod whined, trying to force himself harder down onto Springer. “No! You’re just evil.” His vents ran loud and heat was pouring off of him. “Or… something.”

“Hands on the console!” Springer barked. He grinned as Hotrod reacted instantly, the hand he’d been bringing toward his array slapping down on the console.

“Springer! Please!”

Springer was enjoying this. Maybe if he wore Hotrod out well enough he’d recharge a while and Springer could have some of that quiet he’d been wishing for. “Please what?”

“Harder!”

Damn. That really was sexy. “Like… this?” Springer bucked his hips up suddenly, grinning as Hotrod yelped, then moaned.

“Yes! Like that! Like that, please!”

Springer waited a moment, letting Hotrod writhe on him, then did it again.

“ _Please_!”

“I am,” Springer said, and did it again.

“Faster! More!”

“You are so demanding.”

“ _Springer_!”

Yeah. Hotrod desperate was fragging hot as the Smelters. Springer grabbed his hips, and drove in hard and fast. Hotrod cried out, and kept crying out. Loud. Begging, pleading, moaning, praising Springer, thanking Primus.

Springer gritted his teeth and thrust harder, pushing deep and holding there as all the molten lust that pooled low in his belly burst outward. Hotrod fragging well screamed, hands clawing at the console, back arching, valve almost painfully tight around Springer’s spike as alarms sounded and-

Alarms?

Oh slag! Alarms!

Springer yanked Hotrod back off the console, lifted him off his lap, and dropped him unceremoniously back in his seat as he tried to find out which alarm it was. Did the Decepticons actually find them? Were they damaged? What the frag had hap-

Hotrod reached out and pushed a button, and the alarm stopped. “Oops. That was pretty slagging amazing though.”

Springer checked everything over anyway, his spark pounding. Once he was sure that everything was really all right, he slumped back in his seat. So much for the afterglow, but at least Hotrod was being quiet. He was cleaning himself up, and then wiping up any extra transfluid and lubricant he saw. He even handed Springer a cloth to clean himself up with.

The peace lasted exactly eight minutes and twenty-three seconds.

“I’m bored. Wanna do it again?”

~ | ~

**([Table of Contents](http://ladydragon76.livejournal.com/6214.html) )**


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